


Permanence

by Spiderlily_Writes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cis Byleth, Dysphoria, F/F, Survivor Guilt, Trans Edelgard von Hresvelg, but it's subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: Edelgard's been getting better, but some days are still hard. Some days, she's terrified everything she built is going to crumble around her. But she doesn't have to push through it alone.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Permanence

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Some rare SFW this time! Enjoy.

Edelgard’s hand is shaking as she lifts her teacup off its platter. She hates it when that happens. She can’t stand when her weakness shows so obviously, so  _ brazenly _ . It makes her already sour mood even worse. She’s been trying to keep it under wraps, and luckily, her wife isn’t the  _ most _ perceptive person in the world, so she’s been able to avoid being questioned so far, but she knows that she won’t be able to stay that way forever.

She takes a sip, trying very hard not to look right at Byleth, as though she’s afraid that her wife won’t be there if she does. It’s silly, she  _ knows _ it’s silly, but she’s lost her once, hasn’t she? Swept away without warning or apology, and gone for five years. So is it truly so unrealistic a fear?

The tea—her favorite bergamot blend—tastes like a hot, steaming nothing, and she clenches her hand around the cup. It’s been years, now, why can’t she just get over this? Why can’t she—

The cup shatters, shards of fine porcelain digging into her hand and leaving her with a couple of small cuts, and probably some burns to match. She whimpers in pain, and now Byleth  _ does _ take notice.

“El!” she gasps, alarmed. “Are you okay?”

Frustrated, Edelgard tosses the remnants of the teacup to the table between them and squeezes her clean hand to her injured one, trying to dull the pain. She can’t even drink  _ tea _ properly today. Of course. It’s a wonderful day in their garden, she has her favorite tea, she’s with her wife, and she  _ still _ manages to screw it up.

“Fine!” she snaps, and Byleth, who was reaching toward her to help, recoils slightly. Edelgard feels guilty immediately, and she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to steady herself. “I’m…fine, Byleth. I’m well. Just a couple of small cuts. I’ve certainly suffered worse.”

“El…” Byleth replies, gently chastising. “Even if your hand is fine, something else is wrong. You’re not usually this quiet.”

_ Just keep it in, Edelgard. Just let it go. She won’t press. It’s unseemly to have such an outburst. _

But she doesn’t care if it’s unseemly. Edelgard’s stomach sinks, because the tears welling in her eyes are not going to abate so easily, and the pain of those cuts is enough to shatter her fragile control just as she shattered that cup.

“Yes, something else is wrong,” she admits, bitter. “It’s been wrong all day. But it’s nothing I haven’t suffered before. It’s nothing severe, and I will be fine by dinner, I am certain.”

There’s a moment of silence, and she chances a glance up at Byleth, who watches her, concern plain on her face. “Just because you can handle this alone, doesn’t mean you have to, okay? I’ve always wanted to support you, and I still do. What’s on your mind?”

And just like that, the floodgates break, her tears spill over. She could never hide anything from Byleth for long.

“Everything, Byleth,” she complains, though she knows it sounds childish. When Byleth doesn’t reply, she continues. “Look around us. We’re in a beautiful garden, we won the war, we’re married, I have friends who love me dearly, we deposed a multigenerational system of oppression based on these foul, damnable Crests. I’ve succeeded,  _ objectively _ succeeded, at everything I set out to do. And yet…”

Edelgard feels her voice beginning to break, and she grits her teeth, soldiering on. If Byleth wants to know, Edelgard’s going to tell her. She owes her at least that much.

“And yet, it doesn’t feel  _ right _ . It feels like any day, I’m going to wake up in my bed at Garreg Mach, and all of it will have been a dream. I feel like none of this is mine to hold, that it will all crumble away, that it’s all some sick  _ joke _ . I’m afraid I’m going to lose it all. Lose  _ them _ . Lose  _ you _ .”

“El—” Byleth begins, but Edelgard cuts her off.

“It’s been  _ years _ , Byleth.  _ Years _ . And I still feel this way, Goddess, I don’t even know if  _ I’m _ real.” She pulls her hands close, squeezing tighter, If I’m who I say I am. Look what I did to that cup! How brutish,  _ mannish _ —”

“ _ Edelgard! _ ” her wife interrupts, and this time Edelgard stops in her tracks. Byleth doesn’t make use of her field-commander voice very much these days, but it still has the exact same effect as always. He breath catches, and her eyes snap up to Byleth’s. She feels shame, already, for having exposed herself like this. But there’s no reproach in her former professor’s gaze. No anger. Only that same calm, anchoring sturdiness that Edelgard fell in love with, years ago.

“Yes, my teacher?” Edelgard says, tentatively, quietly. “I…I’m sorry, that outburst was not appropriate of me.”

Byleth sighs, rolling her eyes. “Edelgard, I’m not upset with you. I’m not going to chastise you for being ‘inappropriate’. We’re  _ married _ . But I can tell when you’re spiraling, and it’s not good for you.”

Edelgard sighs, deflating. “No. I suppose it isn’t.”

“Listen to me,” Byleth says, her words deliberate. She takes her time, as though she’s trying to make sure each one of them punches through Edelgard’s defenses and hits her squarely in the heart. “Your feelings are understandable. I…I get it. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe too. And I’m not going to tell you not to feel them.”

The Emperor sniffles, nodding. But she lets Byleth continue.

“But I  _ am _ going to tell you to stop punishing yourself for them. We all slip, okay? But just like when we’re out there on the field, if you keep thinking about one slip, you’ll do it again and again.”

“I…I understand. Thank you. So many years later and you’re still teaching me, it seems,” Edelgard says, chuckling ruefully. Byleth shrugs.

“You teach me, too. But, listen,” she says, standing up from her seat and rounding the tea-table to kneel in front of Edelgard, putting them at eye level. She takes her wife’s hands, left-in-right, right-in-left, and holds them delicately, but firmly. No matter what, Byleth doesn’t treat her like she’s fragile, like she’s easily broken. She doesn’t know if she could handle anything else.

Edelgard takes a breath, shivering, and looks Byleth in her lovely deep blue eyes. She could do that all day. “Yes?”

“This is  _ real _ . Edelgard,” Byleth says, her voice just barely above a whisper. “We are here, in Enbarr, together. I am your wife…” She applies a little extra pressure to the wedding band on Edelgard’s finger, and Edelgard flushes slightly. “And you are mine. You are my  _ wife _ , Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emperor of Adrestia,  _ daughter _ of Ionius, and I am not going anywhere ever again.”

She shudders, feeling tears welling in her eyes once more. “Byleth, I…”

“I’m not finished.” Byleth lifts each of Edelgard’s hands to her lips and brushes them against her, gently. It makes Edelgard’s skin tingle in the most delightful way. Her wife lays those hands on her lap, and reaches up with her own, putting them on Edelgard’s cheeks, brushing her tears aside with her thumbs.

“You can feel my hands, right? You can tell I’m here. I’m solid, I’m  _ real _ , just as real as you are. It’s a beautiful day in the garden, in Enbarr, the capital of the Adrestian Empire, which is full of people who love you, both for what you’ve done and for who you are.” Byleth squeezes, slightly, pinching Edelgard’s cheeks and making her giggle, despite herself.

“Later today, you’re going to go over boring reports from our friend Hubert. Tomorrow, you’re going to visit Ferdinand for tea. This weekend, we’re going to see Dorothea’s new show. They all love you, too, and they’ll be so happy to see you.”

And once more, tears spill over. “We…will have to make sure we bring Dorothea some flowers, to give her after the show. I think she would be upset with us if we didn’t,” Edelgard says, chuckling softly. Byleth mirrors her expression, smiling gently, not moving an inch as her wife cries all over her hands.

“Yeah, absolutely. And that’s the  _ last _ thing we need. Have you seen what Dorothea does to people who offend her? No offense, El, but I like you better  _ not _ burned to a crisp,” Byleth teases, and Edelgard laughs even harder. Byleth joins her.

As the giggles die away and they both catch their breath, Edelgard lifts her hands to cover Byleth’s, her former teacher’s, her  _ wife’s _ , her  _ lover’s _ . She squeezes them, closing her eyes and just leaning into the feeling, the comfort, the pressure, and relishing the warmth of her adoration.

“I don’t know how I was lucky enough to end up with you, my teacher,” Edelgard whispers.

Byleth pinches her cheeks again and Edelgard scowls playfully. “Edelgard, no offense, but you’re one of the least lucky people I know. But you don’t need it. You’re powerful, and skilled, and competent, and an inspiration to me, and everyone else, too.”

“Byleth…”

“Now, do you want some more tea? We can clean up the mess later.”

“I’d like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and thanks to my fabulous beta [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells). If you would like to follow me on twitter, find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite).


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